As summer comes to an end, I find myself remembering a summer of many years past – The summer of the waning crescent moon dropping red into the sea as we drove the shores of the Aegean at 3am heading home after an evening of food, drink, dancing and conversation.
White the beach, black the sea, deep blue the sky – bands of color running along side us – the air caressed us both with its soft, moist breath. It was a summer of love, a love I’d never known before. It was love at first sight and yet we danced slowly into each others arms. It was an impossible love as we came from worlds far, far apart, both in distance and in cultural expectations. And yet we fell into the depths of that love, coming together for one extraordinary summer of intense communication, both spiritual and physical.
That summer ended and I had to return to my own land. We planned, we hoped, we expected to be together again soon. But that was not to be as the vast, vast distances of culture whipped up freezing winds to chill the hearts and break the bond. When finally I was able to return to his land it was a return to heartbreak. Our love was true. Our love was deep. But sadly love is not always enough to turn the passion of first love into the enduring love of companionship.
Now, nearing the end of the autumn of my life, I wonder about love. Are such experiences only for the young? Can love warm a cold heart again?